


A Game of Circles: Season 7

by Mendeia



Series: A Game of Circles [7]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: But they're still spies so there are many secrets, By which I mean a tag for literally every episode, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Epistolary (sometimes), Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 20,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode of season 7.
Relationships: G Callen & Hetty Lange
Series: A Game of Circles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1242131
Comments: 28
Kudos: 17





	1. S7E1: Active Measures

"Tonight, we drink alone," Hetty said.

Ice dropped into G's stomach.

For the first time, he truly understood that he had gone too far with this one.

He'd gone, if not off the rails, certainly to the edge of them before. Many times, if he was honest with himself — and many more than most people would have tolerated. He'd acted without authority or direction, had taken part in cases which were personal, had even risked career and life to save someone he cared about against direct orders.

But Hetty had always forgiven him. Hell, most of the time, she sanctioned it.

This time, she was looking at him with the kind of suspicion she reserved for double-agents, for enemies of the state. She was looking at him with the same coldness than she had shown the last time she looked at Matthias.

Since they had gotten back from Russia, she had kept a close eye on him — closer than normal, anyway. For weeks, as he'd taken vacation days with increasing frequency, her gaze on him had grown from concerned to worried to…

Suspicious.

G swallowed bile.

_Hetty doesn't trust me anymore._

The floor seemed to break open under his very feet.

He stared at her, thinking he should say something, should ask what she was thinking, should throw out a line of some kind so she could pull him back in before he drowned. But Hetty was watching him, cold and angry, _so_ angry. And every word he could think to say evaporated before it reached his tongue.

She'd warned him in his house, warned him that he was going too far. Sam had warned him too, said it was "serious."

Hetty had even _tasered_ him to try to stop him.

"Don't turn your back on me again," she'd said right before pulling the trigger. But now he realized that it wasn't an order — it was a plea. Hetty had _begged_ him to stand down, to reconsider.

But he'd been so caught up, so furiously focused, he hadn't realized that this wasn't like other times when she gave him a gentle warning but stood ready by his side to support him. He had been so far gone, he hadn't realized she wasn't on his side anymore. Or, rather, _he_ wasn't on _her_ side anymore.

He felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, and he became unsteady on his feet.

And still she looked at him coldly.

_Have I truly lost the only thing that had ever mattered? Over Arkady Kolcheck?_

_No. Not Arkady._

_Over a link to my father?_

_A father who was dead._

_But Hetty, Sam, this team…_

They were alive, they were still here in his life — and he had betrayed them all.

Sam would forgive him — he knew that. He knew it the moment he felt the tracker planted on his back. If Sam was planning to track him, then Sam would let him go. And if Sam would let him go, even with the tracking in place, then it meant Sam still trusted him, was still watching his back in the only way he knew how.

Kensi and Deeks, Eric and Nell, even Granger — things might be strained, but they, too, would forgive him. They'd be angry, and he might have to endure a few months of tedious and, admittedly, deserved taunting. But they ultimately respected his choices, and would give him space. Their tolerance of him had been tested, but not undone.

But Hetty…

To the team, he had gone rogue. But to Hetty...to Hetty he had made a choice. A choice that the family he had lost was worth everything, even at the expense of the family he had gained.

Callen had betrayed Hetty and everything he had ever promised her, all to hunt down a man who could lead him no farther than a body in the ground.

He'd been so wrapped up by the possibility of learning about his past, he'd endangered everything that made his life worth living now.

What if Hetty couldn't forgive him? What would he do if that coldness remained?

"Terminated with extreme prejudice" hadn't meant she would kill him. It meant he would be out, gone from her life, and the lives of every person on the team, forever.

He'd known despair his whole life, but this was a flavor of it he hadn't experienced since he was fifteen years old, since ten minutes before Henrietta Lange pulled him out of the foster system and gave him everything. She had banished the heaviest of weights and shadows, and yet he had cast her away without even realizing he was doing it.

And now that old despair was choking him to death.

"Hetty, I…" Callen didn't mean to speak at all, and when he did, it was raspy. He was pretty sure he hadn't sounded so shaken since before his voice changed.

He was pretty sure he hadn't _been_ so shaken in his life. Even learning about his mother and her connection to Hetty wasn't as bad as this.

Because then, he might have chosen to walk away.

Now, Hetty was the one…

He didn't realize he was falling until his palms slammed down on the surface of Hetty's desk with a loud bang, scattering papers and pens to the floor. His head was spinning, and it was only his body acting without him that kept him from pitching forward. His ears roared with blood pounding in them, blocking out any other possible sound.

He heaved in a breath. When had he stopped breathing?

And then there was a light touch on his wrist.

He gulped and ordered his heart to calm down, his ears to hear again. Somehow he managed to look through his swimming eyes to see Hetty finally unfrozen, and her eyes fixed on him as if she looked at _him_ and not at an enemy once more.

"Go home, Mister Callen."

_Mister_ Callen again. Not _Agent_.

The despair loosed its iron hold around his chest.

"Go home," she said again. "Take a long shower. Sleep in your own bed. Go for a run in the morning. I will pick you up for lunch."

"Hetty." He gulped. "I…"

"I know," she said, and she closed her fingers around his wrist. "And tomorrow, we will talk. But tonight, we both have some thinking to do."

That did not make Callen feel better. That sounded like she wasn't sure, like there was no guarantee that…

He straightened up. "I don't want…"

"It's not about what you want, Mister Callen. It's about what we both need."

She released his wrist and stood up, walking around her desk and past him to lift her bag from its place without looking at him.

He was seized with terror. If she walked out now, if she didn't turn back, if he had to try to sleep without knowing if he had lost the only family he'd ever known…

He was reaching for her before he could stop himself.

"Don't."

He froze at the sharp crack of her voice and the iron line of her spine. "But…"

"I know what you want to say, Mister Callen. But in this, you must trust me. If you wish to prove that you are still...my agent...then you need to show me that loyalty now. For both our sakes."

"Hetty, I'm sorry." Because finally he realized that the breaking in his heart was merely a reflection in the breaking of her own.

What must it have cost her to taser him like a criminal? What must she have thought? What must she have _felt_?

How could she believe she was still half his world when he had so stupidly thrown it all away?

Finally she turned back to him. "I'm glad to hear you apologize," she said. "It's a very good start."

"But...it won't...it won't end here. Right?" He took a step forward, but didn't move to touch her. "You said lunch. So...we can still talk about this?"

"Tomorrow, Mister Callen. Tomorrow." And finally she gave him a tiny smile.

It wasn't one of affection, not exactly. But it wasn't so cold anymore. It was complicated and mixed, but there was something familiar in there. Something he recognized.

It gave him hope.

"Okay," he managed. "I'll...see you for lunch."

"Yes, you will. Sleep well, and I hope that tomorrow will look brighter — for both of us."

It took two tries, but G managed to pull his face back under control and his voice as well; it wasn't what she deserved (she deserved so much better than he had given her lately), but it was what he could offer. At least, it was what he could offer that she might accept right now. "Good night, Hetty."

"Good night, Mister Callen."


	2. S7E2: Citadel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I'm on time this week!
> 
> This episode was the one about the firm running intensive personality/identification/correlation tests and hiring out the people who failed for being prone to being lawbreakers or overly violent to unsavory folks. Callen and Sam both went in, Sam as the perfect success, Callen as the kind of failure that would attract attention. At the end, Hetty reveals that the reason it's called the HL test is because she developed it in order to test her own agents. In the last scene, Hetty presents Callen with a gift – an electric razor, because he's still all scruffy.
> 
> It fit SO WELL with the first episode of the season as the two of them are rebuilding their trust, I ran with it.
> 
> Enjoy!

After Sam wandered off, G looked back at the razor. "Thanks, Hetty."

She smiled. It was timid, their relationship still strained after all that had happened so recently. But they were beginning to build back to something approaching normal.

"You're welcome. And I am not joking about using it."

"I know."

She must have seen something on his face, because she tipped her head. "Mister Callen?"

He checked to make sure Sam was out of earshot. "I told Deeks today that..the things we think aren't such a big deal may be a really big deal to others."

"Ah." She stepped to his side. "It's good advice."

"He thought I was talking about Kensi."

Hetty raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you?"

"I thought I was, too," he admitted. "But…"

She nodded. "It's trite and cliché, but there is great truth in the idea that we don't necessarily understand the value of something until we risk losing it."

Callen cleared his throat. "It's not that I didn't understand the value," he said. "It's that I didn't...didn't realize how close I was to losing it." He looked up at her. "Thank you...for not losing me."

She gave him a half-smile. "You're welcome." She drummed her fingers on his desk for a moment. "Thank you for today."

"What about today?" he asked.

"I know it wasn't easy for you."

"What?"

"Failing the test." She was watching him closely.

G chuckled. "You taking a page from Sam's book now? Trust me, I've failed lots of tests."

"I'm well aware of that, Mister Callen," she said with an exasperated air at the memory of getting him through high school. "But this wasn't just any test, was it? It was specifically designed to evoke an emotional reaction."

"Designed by _you_ ," he pointed out. "Hetty, it's fine. It was just a couple of minutes and some pictures."

"Hmm." She regarded him. "After we'd made the arrest, I took the liberty of pulling the data on your aborted test."

That got his attention. "You did?"

"You did fantastically. I think you may actually have better control of your autonomous system than even Mister Hanna. Of course," she raised an eyebrow, "you also have a unique wellspring of...inspiration when it comes to manufacturing the correct emotions even under duress."

He blinked. "You think I was using my…"

"Your deep-seated feelings of grief and loneliness to inform your body's responses? Yes." She nodded. "When you know what you're really looking at, it isn't hard to tell."

He swallowed. He'd told Sam that people saw what he wanted them to see. Somehow, that never applied to Hetty.

"However." Her voice went odd, and he couldn't tell why. "There was one aberration."

And he understood. "The cup of coffee."

"Indeed." She held his eyes. "That answer was the honesty you never intended to give."

G aimed away from the heart of what she wasn't saying. "I guess those people didn't really understand the results that well, if you could tell so obviously and they didn't have a clue."

"Well, as you said, I do have a distinct advantage. Two, in fact."

"You invented the test," he offered. "That's one. What's the second one?"

"I know you better than you know yourself, Mister Callen."

"Does this mean more practice with emotional conditioning?" he asked. "So I don't give so much away next time?"

It wasn't an idle question. That had been part of the tradecraft lessons she'd given him back at the beginning, as soon as he was old enough to understand them.

"No. You misunderstand me." And this time her smile was genuine. "Do you remember what you answered?"

He ducked his head. "Mother," he whispered.

Her voice went soft. "It's good to know that, no matter the difficulty of our present circumstances, some things haven't changed."

And suddenly he realized that he had inadvertently given Hetty proof, incontrovertible, of his loyalty. His feelings. And, given the biometric readings, probably his lasting guilt for what he had almost done.

He looked up into her face and finally saw the Hetty he knew, the Hetty who had always been there for him. Not the cold Hetty who was his boss and who nearly fired him. The Hetty who had raised him, protected him, saved him, and would have died for him.

"No," he said, aware of his heart thumping. "That...that never changed."

Hetty put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"For me either, my boy."

"Even though I…" He didn't bother to finish, just gave a helpless shrug. That was easier than putting words to his treason — not of country, not quite, but of her.

"Even then." She leaned close to him. "Though by all accounts, I should have. _The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing_."

"Blaise Pascal," he identified the quote. Which was nothing to the quiet relief and bubbling joy in his own heart that Hetty had never stopped being his Hetty, his family. Even when he rightly deserved it. The last tension drained out of him.

"Very good." She patted his shoulder. "Now, if you would be willing to make use of that gift sooner rather than later, I feel that I would like some company for supper this evening."

He looked up and smiled. "I can be ready in fifteen minutes. How do you feel about Italian? My treat."

"That would be lovely." She stepped aside to give him room to get up. "I'll finish up a bit of paperwork and be waiting for you in my office."

And when he presented himself to her thirteen minutes later, shaven and hair cut again, he felt more like himself than he had since before the trip to Russia.

"Now, there's the G Callen I expected," Hetty said, eyes bright. "Feel better?"

"Much," he admitted. "Thanks again. For…"

She held up a hand. "Save it for dessert, Mister Callen."

So he did.


	3. S7E3: Driving Miss Diaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is about the girl who survived a South American genocide and is needed to testify if she's who she is believed to be, but she's a model who mostly wants her picture taken. Eventually she ends up at a warehouse and Hetty takes pictures and talks her into doing the right thing. But there's a tense moment when there is a threat and everybody in the warehouse reveals the weapons they are carrying, including Hetty's trusty arm rig derringer.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty interrupted Callen while he was trying to open her weapons locker. He looked up and gave a sheepish smile.

"You changed the code again, huh?"

"Because Miss Jones gave it to you," she replied. "Which is rather out of character for her."

"Don't be mad at Nell. I talked her into it."

"It's not the first time you've done so." Hetty crossed her arms. "Now, why are you corrupting my intelligence analyst? And why are you trying to break into my weapons locker — again?"

"I'm not corrupting Nell!" He held up his hands. "I just...convinced her that it was worth it for me to take a look at something. She watched me the whole time to make sure I wasn't doing anything except what I said I was going to do."

"And what is that?" she asked archly.

"I wanted to check out your arm rig."

Hetty tipped her head. "What possible interest do you have in that? I know for a fact that it's too small for you. As if you'd ever resort to my derringer except under truly dire circumstances."

Callen shrugged. "It's just...I've never really taken a look at this new one. But when you go out into the field, that's how you protect yourself."

Hetty raised an eyebrow and waited.

"And...I just…"

"You wanted to make sure I would be safe."

He didn't answer, but he met her eyes steadily with that quiet, fierce protectiveness.

"You really must remember that I have been doing this for a very long time, Mister Callen. I assure you, any weapon you know, I have also learned. I can break down a gun in the field as well as yourself."

"It's not the derringer I'm worried about," he said. "It's the rig itself." He glanced at the locker, at the arm rig he could see through the bars. "If it were to jam, you wouldn't be able to get to your gun fast enough. The old one had that spring that tended to stick. So..."

Hetty sighed and shook her head. "I assure you, I was in no danger in the field this time, except perhaps of being caught in the memories of days spent on the sets of shoots which had nothing at all to do with guns once upon a time."

"I know. And you had Kensi and Deeks and half of a protective detail team working undercover."

"Indeed."

She moved to stand beside him. "And still you feel the need to check it."

"Hetty…"

She held up a hand. "I understand your need for penance, Mister Callen, and how recent events may have made you feel even more concerned about my security. But I will thank you not to underestimate me or our team. It is a distraction that you may not always have the luxury to allow."

He nodded and turned away.

"However."

He paused.

"If you would like to see the rig again to assuage your concerns, I had intended on cleaning and oiling it today anyway."

She gave him a tiny smile, which virtually guaranteed he wouldn't believe it, that he would guess there was no coincidence to her showing him the rig now. That it was, instead, a deliberate move on her part to continue to rebuild their broken bridges.

His shoulders fell and he visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Hetty."

"However, if you badger Nell for the new combination, you will be cleaning and calibrating every weapon in the armory for the next month. Understood?"

He nodded and turned away so she could input the code without him watching.

Hetty made a mental note to change it as soon as he left anyway, just in case. After all, he wouldn't be her finest agent if he couldn't get a code from her, even with his back turned and a silent keypad. And he was, so he probably would.

But for the moment, she contented herself in opening the locker and pulling out the newest rig for her most protective agent to scrutinize with every bit of his hyper-cautious brain and his too-big heart.

And when he found a tiny flaw, a piece of metal that was warping under the pressure, Hetty admitted to herself that perhaps her boy's caution was not misplaced after all.


	4. S7E4: Command and Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Sorry for the continuing delay. Health problems STINK.
> 
> Anyway. This episode is the fun one where Callen and Sam end up running around with the daughter of a high-ranking official trying to keep her safe from the guys attempting to strong-arm her father into treason. The episode is a cat-and-mouse game at its best on the streets of LA, and therefore I thought it was the perfect time for a return of Gouda!
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen had just pushed into his house, exhausted, when his new phone pinged.

"If that's another case, I'm dropping this phone in another sewer and Eric can just deal with it," he muttered.

The phone pinged four or five more times before he managed to shut the door and get his phone out of his pocket. They were all texts from Hetty.

He blinked.

They were _pictures_ from Hetty.

Of his cat.

Gouda on the memorable first night of his arrival.

Gouda eating sushi.

Gouda examining the back step with the sort of attention Sam gave to explosives.

As he scrolled through, more began to arrive. Gouda eating Deeks's weird cooking. Gouda asleep on the porch next to most of a rabbit. Gouda stretched out in the sun on top of the mailbox. Gouda mid-yowl.

After fifteen or so pictures, Callen managed to get a text off. "What are you doing?"

Another picture — Gouda stalking a dandelion.

Hetty paused the flood of pictures to reply with actual text. "You were forced to ditch your phone."

"So?"

Gouda with some kind of rodent tail hanging out of his mouth.

"While Mister Beale restored your contacts and other functions to your new version, he did not replace any pictures you had taken not related to work. I am simply sending you your pictures back."

Two more pictures — Gouda muddy and obviously ticked off, and Gouda blurry and half out of frame.

"I don't need all these pictures," he sent. Then, frowning, "Also, I didn't even take all these pictures. Why do you have so many pictures of the cat who lives here?"

Gouda sleeping in a position that would demand a trip to at least a chiropractor, if not the emergency room, if a human spine was twisted like that.

The pictures paused for the arrival of another text.

"There is no harm in having some personality attached to your device."

He snorted. "Where did these pictures even come from?"

Another picture arrived and he blinked — Gouda, sitting very, very smugly, on G's lap in a chair on the back porch. And G himself was clearly asleep.

Well, that answered that question.

"You took these," he sent. It was the only possible answer — no one else on earth could sneak up that close to him when he was asleep without him knowing it. "Why have you been sneaking around my house taking pictures of my cat?"

Another picture — Gouda playing with a piece of string, which was being dangled by Sam.

Callen groaned. "This is one of those things where you two are checking up on me, isn't it?"

A close-up of Gouda, eyes closed, radiating satisfied contentment.

"I'm setting that as your contact picture in my phone," he sent. "And apparently I'm going to have to up my security if you and Sam are crawling through my backyard at random times of day."

"You have a very nice cat. He's worth visiting," Hetty sent back.

"What, and I'm not?"

"When you're deep undercover, someone must make sure he is cared for."

Callen blinked. "You've been looking after the cat who lives in my backyard while I'm undercover?"

"I believe that's what I implied."

He shook his head. It was bizarre, and oddly considerate, and totally Hetty. And apparently he would never stop being surprised.

There came a meow from the back door. G made his way over and turned on the back light to see Gouda rubbing against the chair set out there next to the weighted food and water bowls. Both were empty.

Grinning, Callen opened the door and scooped up the giant cat. It immediately started to purr, while also making a dire face of hatred worthy of the worst mobster in California. Callen shifted until he could get the cat dangling in one arm, legs swinging, face furious, and snapped a selfie.

He sent it to Hetty immediately. "Here's a new one for your collection."

She replied, "I'll set that as your picture in my phone. But you should probably feed him. He looks hungry."

Gouda set to yowling, reminding G that he did not like being helpless in the air. But he kept on yowling when his feet hit the ground. G rolled his eyes and pulled a bit of sushi out of the fridge, depositing it in the food bowl while his cat made noisy chirping sounds of approval.

Callen had taken a picture of Gouda eating before he realized what he'd done.

"How did this happen?" he asked the cat. "How did I become a person with a house and a pet who sends cat pictures to friends?"

Another text arrived. "Good night, Mister Callen."

He sighed. "It's definitely her fault."

Gouda looked up and licked his nose, and G just managed to catch it with his camera. It was an impulse, and when he looked at the picture, it was actually not a bad shot. The cat was well lit, and his tongue was just poking out, making him look either very happy or slightly silly. Maybe both.

What else could he do?

He sent it to Hetty, saying "Good night from both of us."


	5. S7E5: Blame it on Rio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the obligatory appearance of an NCIS original.
> 
> Enjoy!

After seeing DiNozzo off with Kensi, Deeks, and the most annoying criminal Callen had been forced to deal with in years, he wandered back to Hetty's desk. She was writing out some paperwork by hand with one of her nicer pens.

"So, how's Gibbs?"

"Almost entirely recovered from his shooting," she replied without looking up. "Personally, I think he's getting crankier as he ages. But that's neither here nor there."

"Is it really crankiness?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly, I thought he was finally starting to mellow out a little."

"I'll be sure and tell him you said that."

"Thanks. He'll come out to LA just to try and smack me upside the head." He grinned. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Violence among agents is strictly frowned upon and will be punished as an act of assault against a fellow officer," Hetty recited, finishing a page and setting it aside so she could continue to work on the next. "However, Gibbs assures me that DiNozzo was actually convinced to sign a waiver regarding head-smacking some years ago. Given how often he claims to do it to his agent, I am not at all surprised such a thing was necessary. Nor that DiNozzo was actually dumb enough to sign it."

"Yeah. DiNozzo's...really something."

Hetty looked up and made a pinched face. "Something better served on the other side of the country, I believe."

"So, other than the suit, you don't know what Kensi sees in the guy either?"

"That would be an affirmative, Mister Callen. Now, was there something you needed?"

"Not really." He shrugged. "Just...checking in."

"You could call Gibbs yourself, you know," she said, and suddenly her full attention was on him. "I don't need to remind you that the two of you have enough history such that a call between friends would not go amiss."

"I guess." He realized he was fidgeting just a moment too late to stop it.

Hetty's gaze sharpened. "Something wrong, Mister Callen?"

"No. It's just…" He sighed. "Gibbs is a good leader. He's not perfect, but he knows how to work with his people, how to care about them without losing track of the job."

"Gibbs is a credit to his position, but he's far from perfect." Hetty gave a small smile. "None of us are."

"I know. And I was grateful for the things he taught me when I did work with him. But it's weird now, to see DiNozzo and realize how different it would be."

"Different how?"

"If I had decided to join Gibbs's team way back when he asked me to."

Hetty frowned. "I didn't know he'd made such an offer."

"It was unofficial. Before either of us joined up with NCIS. He gave me an out if I wanted to try something else."

"And you didn't take him up on it because?"

Callen shook his head. "I'm a spy, Hetty. That's what I do. That's what I trained for. And it's not just about going undercover. There's a reason we take on the 'Special Projects' around here."

"There is more to you than Black Ops," Hetty said, peering at him with concern. "It's true that what we do is a more...aggressive version than Gibbs's team. But if that is something you would have wanted…"

"It's not." And his shoulders fell, finally admitting it. "That's why it was weird seeing DiNozzo. I looked at him, and I thought about Gibbs, and I realized that I am exactly where I need to be. And if I had been anyplace else, I wouldn't have this." He swallowed. "I might not even know my father's real name, or my mother's. I'd be living a different life."

"True."

"And I'd have a different boss. And Hetty? I _really_ don't want any other boss but you."

She smiled, relaxing as well. "There are some schools of thought which teach that we are where we are meant to be, that life leads us to where we are most needed. While I do not know if that is always true, in your case, I am very glad it led you here."

"Also, it saves me from being the one Gibbs hits upside the head every other day."

"Every other hour, from how he tells it."

"Yeah." He smirked. "That's one thing I'm completely fine with us not doing."

"Oh, Mister Callen." Hetty's eyes were alight with humor. "If I needed to hit you to get through to you, we both know I would."

G laughed. "Yes, I have recent experience that proves it. And don't worry. If there's anybody who is dense enough to even possibly deserve your smacking besides me, it's definitely Deeks. Though you might not be able to land a hit through all that hair."

"I assure you, I have no intention of finding out. If Mister Deeks vexes me to that point, I have a new taser to try."

And the fact that they could both joke about it, about the tasing, about Callen being too dense to know when he was wrong - it proved that everything was going to be okay.

G grinned, and not just at Hetty's empty threat about tasing Deeks. "I would pay money to see that."

"I'll make a note of that in case we ever need to acquire some more funds for our budget."

Deeks never did find out why Callen and Hetty both smirked at him for the entire following morning.


	6. S7E6: Unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the gap in posting and also for spamming anybody who gets chapter-by-chapter alerts. I was kinda sick and then didn't feel up to posting at all. It's funny – I write everything out long before I ever upload it, because I love the writing. But I always, every single week, have a minor anxiety attack when it comes to turning this over to the public. Oh well.
> 
> Anyway, here's me catching up.
> 
> Enjoy!

As Callen headed off to join the takedown operation, Hetty watched him go with trepidation. She had no doubt that her agent would watch his partner's back, as promised. And she had no doubt that Sam Hanna would watch Callen's as well — if he wasn't caught up trying to watch Ruiz's instead.

But it was something in the tiny hitch of shadow from their conversation that stayed with her the longest.

"Ruiz lived while Sam's brothers died."

He said it so simply, but she could see the impact on him. Cases that were close to Sam's heart always lodged an arrow in Callen's as well — it was the connection between them that surpassed partners and friends and went straight to family. Which meant that cases like this were the worst, because they hurt G Callen twice.

First, because Callen felt every bit of pain Sam felt, a sympathetic sharing even as Callen attempted to keep his perspective clear when Sam could not. As he said, Sam was loyal to a fault, and sometimes that did blind him to reality. Callen had to force himself to see through to that reality while dealing with the ache he felt on behalf of his partner.

But the second pain was much more subtle, and much more insidious. Because cases like this reminded G Callen that Sam had many brothers, many friends, many teammates who knew exactly how honorable and strong and extraordinary Sam was — and Callen did not. Callen was known for being a good _agent_ ; Sam had earned a legacy of being a good _man_.

And even if he didn't always recognize it, Hetty knew Callen felt that discrepancy.

She didn't worry that there would be some kind of jealousy over a former partner or a question on Callen's part about loyalty — it simply wasn't possible. Because Sam might be loyal to someone Callen chose not to trust, but in the end she knew they were both fully aware of the fact that nothing could get them to turn their backs on one another. As often as not, anyone to whom Sam was loyal earned extra care from Callen just on the basis of that connection. It was how Callen had become protective of Michelle so easily, or of any SEAL who crossed their path. If a person touched Sam's heart, Callen would guard them — because that was another way he could protect his partner and best friend and brother.

But still. She worried about the difference in how others perceived them sometimes. Sam was the sort of man who would draw a stadium-sized crowd if he were to be honored, and every person present would say they were better for having known him. Whereas G Callen had spent a lifetime arranging matters so that any honors he received would come secretly, in a dark, secure room, where no one would ever know or see. Callen's inherent privacy had cut him off, which served him well except when it left him very much alone.

And of course he had his team now, this small family forged from the agents they saw day in and day out. But it wasn't the same. There simply weren't many people in the world who would regard Callen as a brother and friend and comrade-in-arms. Whereas Sam could name dozens.

Hetty didn't think that Callen necessarily envied it — he was too much of a loner to have sought out that much companionship. But she knew it made him wonder sometimes. She knew it made him doubt a little.

That was the curse of life in the shadows — no one knows when you pass by, and no one can ever be sure exactly what you did on your way. So people who would trust Sam without hesitation might never look at G Callen with the same appreciation or respect.

It made him see himself in stark relief, the dark to Sam's light, the secrets and lies to Sam's honesty and integrity.

It wasn't how she saw either of them, of course. But she wasn't the one wearing that slightly wary expression, either.

Hetty just resolved to watch her boy closely still, as she had since Russia. He was all right, and the team was all right, but the cracks were still showing a bit if one knew where to look. And those cracks, while not yet dangerous, might point to a weakness which none of them could afford.

Hetty would do whatever was in her power to keep her boy from shattering ever again. It was the first promise she had made to him, and if necessary, it would be the last she kept.


	7. S7E7: An Unlocked Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for discussion of potential noncon. It did not happen, but they got close in this episode. It's the one with the creepy cult. Okay? Be safe, make good choices for yourself. (And please @ me for using the "r" word, okay? Call it what it is. I'm not depicting it, condoning it, or making light of it. But I won't pretend that's not where this episode went.)
> 
> Incidentally, if you watch the start of episode 8 remembering this one, you'll note that the guys are a lot more careful around Kensi until she tells them to knock it off. It's subtle, but absolutely present. I'm not sure who made the connection, but I'm glad they did to keep the continuity together.
> 
> As a survivor, I am fine if you skip this one. But I needed to write it to finish it for myself.

He had let himself into the basement, one of the corners behind pallets of supplies where there were no cameras, no sensors. He kept his back to the wall, his eyes barely on the gun that he was field-stripping and reassembling by rote.

He'd lost track of the number of times he'd gone through the exercise before he realized he was no longer alone.

"Hetty."

She stepped into view, the overhead light casting shadows across her face. But her tone was light and assuming when she spoke.

"Mister Callen?"

He slammed the clip back into the gun with more force than necessary. "How's Kensi?"

"The drug has been mostly flushed from her system. She's being released shortly and Miss Jones will deliver her to the boathouse to meet up with Mister Deeks."

He set the gun down on the plastic-wrapped box before him because he didn't trust himself to hold it.

"Did they hurt her?"

Hetty drew a step nearer. "No."

He hauled in a breath that shuddered. "Are you _sure_?"

"Mister Callen…"

He smashed his hands down on the box, the sound echoing across the basement, snarling his barely-leashed rage. "Hetty, I swear to _god_ , if they laid a _hand_ on her, they'll all be dead by morning."

She took another step closer. "Kensi has reported that their intentions were...what you fear. But she fought back before the assault became too serious."

"They were going to rape her."

Hetty nodded. "I'm afraid so. Lee Ashman and three female members of the cult. They underestimated Miss Blye, however, and she bloodied them and escaped."

"When I heard her...when she came over the comms and needed help…" He hung his head, his whole body vibrating.

"I know," she said. "I heard it as well."

"Does Deeks know?"

"Yes. He knows."

Callen forced himself to un-hunch himself and look at her. "Is he okay?"

"He is shaken up, I believe. But the fact of Miss Blye's safety has done much to soothe him."

"No." He shook his head. "He's relieved, but he's not soothed. There's no way."

"Miss Blye has handled far worse than today's events," she said gently.

"And Deeks tortured a man for her then. But it almost destroyed him." Callen swallowed a harsh lump in his throat. "He can't...he can't give into that feeling again. Not and be what she needs. Deeks can't love her the way he does and take care of her the way she needs — and take revenge at the same time."

Hetty went very still. "But you can."

He met her eyes and knew his own were burning. "Yeah. I can."

"Are you going to?"

G looked away. "I haven't decided yet."

"You didn't kill Matthias."

That surprised him. "You knew?"

"That you have considered assassinating him for what he tried to do to me? Of course." She shook her head. "If he'd spilled my blood that day in the office, I don't think you would have shown any restraint at all."

"I wouldn't."

"As it is, I'm grateful you haven't needlessly thrown your career away getting revenge when it is not warranted."

He shrugged, unable to agree with either part of that statement. Matthias still deserved to die for threatening her, for invading their office, for the lives he'd taken. And Callen wouldn't care one bit about his career if it came to that.

"You know," she said as she shifted to stand next to him, "that I can't allow you to do anything to Ashman now that he is in federal custody. Not even if he had succeeded today."

It took everything Callen had not to shout at her. "If he had succeeded, you wouldn't be able to stop me."

"I know." She sighed. "If he had succeeded, I might not even try, and damn the consequences to us both. But he didn't."

Callen hung his head, his body still trapped between waves of fury and a sharp, painful sort of helplessness. "He touched her, Hetty. He _and_ those women. Even if he didn't...he didn't get the chance to do much more…"

"Kensi won't thank you if you do this."

"It's not about thanks." He closed his hands into fists. "It's about…" But he trailed off, words failing him.

"It's about your family." Hetty reached through his defensive, angry barriers and covered one of his hands with her own. "And believe me, Mister Callen, I understand."

He shut his eyes, nodding. "I know you do."

"And that is why you will leave this to me."

Callen blinked his eyes open in surprise, looking at her and the serious expression on her face. "You?"

Hetty's eyes were like steel, and her grip on his hand was unwavering. "Do you truly believe I feel less than you when it comes to our family?"

"No, of course not."

"Then trust me now." She looked at him over her glasses. "Ashman and the women who participated in the assault against Miss Blye will not be prevented from their trip through the justice system — but by the time I am finished with them, they will be praying to whatever deity they believe in that I would let you do this your way."

Callen felt a tremor run through his spine. Not in fear, not of Hetty or her threat, but of relief. That this would be taken out of his hands, that he wouldn't have to darken his soul this time.

"Only if you're sure," he said then. "I can still do this." He didn't put words to the rest. That he would take this on to spare Hetty, if she didn't want to add more to her own weight to bear.

"You can — but I can do it better." Hetty shook her head. "Believe me, Mister Callen. This one is no hardship. Call it karmic retribution."

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay."

"Now." She squeezed his hand again. "I will check in on Miss Blye myself and ensure that our Mister Deeks is in the correct frame of mind to be of help to her. There is one thing you could do for me, though."

"Anything."

"Go home. Do not sit outside Miss Blye's place awake all night. She needs time and space and security to recover from her day, and you hovering like a gargoyle will not facilitate that. Go home and find your own recovery."

G drew in a deep breath, holding it until he could feel his heart pound before releasing it. "I really...I would kill them all. If they'd…"

"I know. But they didn't. Not to Kensi, anyway. To how many others? We may never know." Her voice went hard and deadly. "And for that, I give you my word, they will be punished."

He nodded. "I think I'm going to be...a little off for a while. It's weird but...it's not like this when people are shooting at us. This is different, somehow."

"Of course it is. It's a very different crime, and its impact is not to be underestimated." She patted his hand. "I fully expect all of you to be uncommonly protective of Miss Blye for a little while. Try not to let it interfere with the job, and try not to get on her nerves. But I believe she will understand."

"And Deeks?"

"I will handle Mister Deeks as well. You just go home. Find your center. Your team will need you to be constant for them in the face of their uncertainty from today. Be what they need you to be, what they expect from you. And they will find their own way all the more easily because of it."

He turned over the hand she held and gripped hers in return. "Thanks, Hetty."

"You're welcome, my boy. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For bringing them home safely."

"Always," he vowed. "No matter what. Always."


	8. S7E8: The Long Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the only parts of this episode that matter is the fact that our favorite DEA agent Talia shows up and Deeks spends the whole episode trying to start something between team Talia and Kensi versus team Deeks and Callen and the girls constantly tell him to quit and Callen refuses to play ball. So there, ha.
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen was sitting at the Clippers game with Talia when she broke from the discussion of the upcoming NBA draft to say, "By the way."

"Yeah?"

"I appreciate you not going along with Deeks to turn things into a guy-versus-girl situation. I know he was trying to be funny, but it kinda sucks when you're constantly outnumbered."

He shrugged. "Gender's got nothing to do with it. I can't say that I think the exact same way you and Kensi do, but who am I to tell you my way is better than yours?"

"Exactly. Thanks for that."

"No problem."

She paused. "Also, thanks for not being creepy about us changing in front of you."

G laughed. "Creeping at you or Kensi seems like a really good way to get some well-earned broken bones. Trust me, I'm not into that."

Talie smiled and nudged him with an elbow. "You're smarter than you look, you know."

He smirked. "People tell me that all the time."

Later, while waiting for her outside the restroom to walk her to her car, he pulled out his phone.

"Thanks."

Hetty replied back almost at once. "For what?"

"The Hetty Lange School of Gender Equality strikes again."

He could almost feel her smug laughter from across the city.

But it was something he knew was one of the most important lessons he had learned from her, one she had started the very day she had first taken him into her home. He could joke about stuff, sure, and he could pretend to play a guys' game — that was a lesson gained from being a teenager and male. But Hetty had also helped him see when things related to gender needed to be handled differently. When he needed to be neutral or risk adding to the pile of crap that happens in societies which aren't balanced or equal.

Callen wouldn't say he was an expert — and he wasn't — but he did know when not to pile on the boys-versus-girls train. And not just because it got him benefits like a night out with Talia. Because it ensured that he was respecting the female members of his team without denigrating or singling them out due to being female.

He could appreciate women, be attracted to them, and even recognize their femininity, without making it about his own interest. He could also be comfortable with accepting that he had no idea what a woman might think or feel in relation to being a woman in a man's world, and let them tell him what they needed. And he could be professional regardless, not forgetting a woman's gender but also not placing that part of her identity above any other part.

Being raised by a strong, confident, feminist, _kickass_ woman would do that to any guy.

Hetty's answer arrived just as Talia was walking out of the restroom.

"As always, I am gratified to know that you are such an enlightened member of your own gender, Mister Callen. Now, don't forget the other manners about gentlemanly behavior I taught you. And also any relevant interdepartmental regulations on fraternization. Have a good night."

He laughed.

Talia raised an eyebrow as she rejoined him. "Something up?"

"Hetty says hi."

"I see." She smiled. "Tell her that the next time Kensi and I do an ice cream night, she's welcome to join us. Oh, and your tech analyst, too."

"I will," he said, putting his phone away, "but I have to admit, that does make me nervous."

"Oh?" she asked, face expectant. He could feel her readiness to smack him down if he messed this one up.

G smirked. "Against the four of you, the rest of us don't stand a chance. Not that I'd mind." He held up a hand. "Let me know when the insurrection begins and I'll be your inside man."

Talia grinned and shook his hand. "Deal."

He wasn't entirely sure if she was joking — but he certainly wasn't.

Because a world run by Hetty, Kensi, Nell, and Talia?

That was a world he very much thought he would prefer.


	9. S7E9: Defectors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode that ends with the cliff-hanger of Sam and Callen arresting their target and then Deeks getting arrested outside while walking with Kensi post showdown. So I picked up the part where Callen finds out about the arrest.
> 
> Enjoy!

His phone rang while he and Sam were still sorting out the fight from the parking garage.

"Hetty?"

"The LAPD has just arrested Mister Deeks for murder."

"They _what_?" He spun away from Sam, not wanting to distract his partner from handling the official business.

"You heard me, Mister Callen."

"Where are they taking him? We can be there right on their heels." He started to move towards the stairwell.

"Don't take another step," Hetty snapped. "You have to handle the current crime scene, see to our terrorist recruiters, and ensure all statements are given."

"Hetty! We're not letting them walk away with Deeks!"

"Right now, that's _exactly_ what you're going to do." Her voice was like iron. "We will not interfere in the IA investigation, not now."

"But!"

"If we march in there and snatch him out of custody, we'll only make it harder to prove his innocence later." She sighed. "You're going to have to trust me right now, Mister Callen. The LAPD is playing a long game, and we cannot afford to be caught with a short hand."

Callen shut his eyes and blew out a breath through his nose.

"Hetty…"

"I know, Mister Callen." And her voice was low. "But Mister Deeks will not come to too much harm in LAPD custody — I'll ensure that. And we will help him when we can be of real help. Right now, I need you to focus on closing the case at hand. Then we'll be ready to put all our resources on assisting our lost detective."

He tried to bring his thoughts and emotions into order. Then he had a thought.

"What about Kensi? Is she okay?"

"I've already sent her home. I'll keep an eye on her. I need you to take care of your partner, and then…"

"And then?"

"Do what you do best, Mister Callen. Keep your mind on the job, keep your focus sharp, and be ready for whatever comes tomorrow."

He swallowed, nodding even though she couldn't see it.

"Oh, and I know you were planning a date with Joelle tonight."

He managed a chuckle. "I don't think I even want to know how you know that."

"I suggest you go on the date anyway. Allow her to offer you support if you need it."

"I think that's a really, _really_ bad idea, Hetty."

"Perhaps. But if Joelle can see you through this, she can see you through a great deal more. Isn't that worth knowing?"

Callen sighed. Leave it to Hetty to be wrapping plans and schemes inside of chaos and emergencies even now. And he could also tell from her voice that if he didn't go along with it, she was going to play this game with him again later.

"I guess."

"However."

"However what?"

"If things go poorly, I will be working in the office overnight. There is a great deal of work we can do to start the ball rolling on Deeks's case, if you find you have trouble sleeping."

"Thanks for the optimism."

"You're welcome. Stay focused, Mister Callen. Your team is going to need you at your very, very best tomorrow."

"Understood." And he did. He hung up, a cold stone in his stomach.

Sam was already looking at him with concern.

G gave himself one more moment of quiet, one moment of stillness, before he launched back into action. It would be the only stillness he would have until Deeks was safe, proven innocent, and back where he belonged.


	10. S7E10: Internal Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand the aftermath of the IA adventure.
> 
> Enjoy!

"The truth doesn't take sides, Mister Callen. Only we do that."

It told him everything he needed to know, even without Hetty's too-sharp look following it up.

Yes, there was something bad to dig up in Deeks's past, but it wasn't the kind of bad that would make Hetty turn her back on him. It might even be the kind of bad that wasn't so awful after all; Callen had more than a few of those in his past as well. Choices made when there was no other choice; and between terrible options and worse, a person did the best they could.

It set his mind at ease about Deeks — because if Callen had learned one thing about Marty Deeks in the last few years, it was that he could trust the man to do what he thought was right, even if it was illegal.

Maybe especially if it was illegal.

G could identify with that.

As the case unraveled, Callen found that the certainty steadied him. The LAPD case was bad, and the investigation was frustrating, but the fact that he could count on his teammate to have been doing the right thing from the beginning made it easier to follow the moves and games without getting lost in the emotion that grew with every hour Deeks was in custody.

Even as he felt better about the whole situation, though, he could see Kensi was feeling understandably worse. When Kensi confronted Hetty, he let her rail, but he was also ready to walk her away from Hetty's desk if Hetty gave the word. He completely respected her feelings, and if he hadn't been tipped off, he probably would have shared them.

But Hetty had given him enough to figure out what was going on and why — and, if anything, he respected Deeks a little more for knowing. And, he was fairly sure, Kensi would too — as soon as she figured it out.

Still, it was a harrowing couple of sleepless days, though it ended with only minor injuries and the IA investigation closed forever, if closed wrongly. Drinks were a welcome distraction, though Deeks was late and Hetty didn't show at all.

Which meant that Hetty and Deeks had had a private moment of their own. Callen knew that particular kind of quiet that was in the back of Deeks's eyes when he finally made it for round two at the bar — Hetty had told him what she knew, and what G assumed, and it had shaken him to his core.

Callen shook his head. Deeks should know by now not to assume anyone could keep anything secret from Hetty Lange.

But the fact that Hetty had gone to bat for him, had hidden Quinn in the system — because once he knew what he was looking for it was obvious enough to know that Hetty had been the one to kick-start this whole fiasco specifically to get it handled now while she could control the outcome rather than letting it crop up and surprise them at a worse time — told G more than the fact that Hetty was looking out for a member of her team. It told him that she would go to the same lengths for Deeks that she would for Sam or Kensi or himself.

Which he'd already known, but it was different to see it.

It reminded him of finding out that he had 'cousins,' other kids trained by Hetty to spycraft. He'd always figured she had other proteges, others who had learned at her side, but it was something else entirely to understand just how much of her life was wrapped around others and he didn't even see it happen.

Callen had accepted long ago that Deeks was part of the team, part of the family. He'd missed, somehow, that Hetty considered him just as much hers as she considered Callen himself.

In some ways, they were not dissimilar, either. Deeks had a mom, but they'd both had rough childhoods and had been faced with terrible tragedies and pains early in their lives. In some ways, they had both been lost until Hetty Lange swooped in and set their feet on the right path. If anything, Deeks had been more lost — he'd bounced from lawyer to cop to detective to undercover operative before she set him straight. Callen, at least, had had the benefit of her meddling far earlier.

But looking around the table now, he knew it would be incomplete without Deeks. Not just Kensi, but all of them would be worse off if that scruffy LAPD detective hadn't made his home in their circle. But the true worst of all would be if he had been pulled out of it now that they'd had him all this time.

G waited until Deeks had a beer in him and was looking more like himself, arm draped over Keni's shoulders and leaning too close to Beale, who was trying to out-logic him over some piece of trivia. Nell and Sam were exchanging fond looks, and even Granger looked faintly amused. With the skill of a true spy, he snapped a picture.

And sent it to Hetty, saying only, "Thank you."

He knew she would understand the rest.


	11. S7E11: Cancel Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They should have done more episodes actually depicting the group celebrating the holidays together. I'm just saying.
> 
> Enjoy!

"This is one to remember," Callen said softly to Hetty while the pair of them sat together on the low couch nearest the Christmas tree. The Hanna household was bursting with people, and laughter, and family.

In the kitchen, Michelle's mother was chatting amicably with the extremely odd pair of mothers — Kensi's who was refined and a little uncertain, Deeks's who was absolutely, positively the source of all things Marty Deeks — while their respective children tried very, very hard to stay uninvolved. Of course, the post-dinner discussion had turned almost hilariously quickly into a game of "who has the best story about their wild kid?" and Callen would treasure the memory of his teammates turning increasingly red as their moms embarrassed them nearly to death. Michelle was the only one who didn't turn into an offended teenager at her own mom's participation; she, cool as ever, simply told stories she'd heard about Sam from his mother.

Sam quickly decided to go start washing pots and pans in the kitchen to escape. And because he was the only one there without a mom, he was permitted.

That thought brought Callen up short.

_Kensi and her mom._

_Deeks and his mom._

_Michelle and her mom. And Michelle is Aiden's and Kamran's mom, obviously._

_Which leaves me and Hetty._

Something deep in his chest turned soft and warm.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Hetty asked softly. The bubble of conversation — and sometimes indignant Deeks shouting, from either of them — from the table was nicely complimented by Sam and Aiden and Kamran playing with some game on the TV in the next room. In spite of the age difference, G knew that Aiden absolutely adored his baby sister, and it was never clearer than when the pair of them teamed up against their dad in video games. So there was more indignant shrieking, and some manly laughter, from that quarter as well.

"It's another year you've missed Christmas with the others," he said. "I don't know if I should feel special or guilty. Or worried." He turned a mock frown on her. "I'm not going to get shot in the back by a jealous agent who misses you, am I?"

Hetty laughed. "First of all, not one of them would dare. They all know the rules about fighting with one another. And second of all, I'm not sure there's one of them who can sneak up on you, Mister Callen."

The warmth in the pit of his stomach deepened.

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it," he said, trying for light. "Since I'm still not allowed to know any of them besides Grace."

"No, you are not. It's hard enough keeping the others apart. I don't need you causing trouble for them and making it ever harder for me to keep my hand in without giving away the game." She shook her head. "There's a reason family members aren't allowed to work together in our business. Circumventing that is a full-time occupation."

He nodded, knowing that all too well. Then he glanced back at the other room. Through the open door, he could see Deeks acting out something elaborate with a not-quite-dry pan, and Kensi's mom was trying in vain to follow him around with a dishtowel.

"Is this what it's like?" he found himself asking.

She tipped her head at him. "Mister Callen?"

"For other families? Is this what a normal family feels like?" He swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable meeting her gaze.

Hetty smiled, but shook her head. "No. It isn't. Because most families can take for granted that which you can never fail to appreciate." She reached out and closed a hand on his arm. "Most families don't have to find one another, so they don't know how lucky they truly are."

Callen shifted so he could hold her arm in the crook of his own, covering her hand with his.

"Not all families are lucky," he said. "And not all people are lucky enough to get a family even when they want it more than anything in the world."

"True," she said. "And that is why I shall ever be grateful."

"You?" He looked at her with surprise.

"That you still permit me to be a part of yours, after everything that's happened between us."

He could barely stand to hold her too-honest eyes. He had to take a shaky breath before he could speak.

"I'm the one who should be grateful, Hetty. After everything...you're still here for me."

"Always, dear," she said with all the heart she so rarely gave voice. "Always."

A moment later, a blur came hurtling towards them and Callen only just untangled his arm from Hetty in time to catch Kamran before she crushed them both.

"Uncle Callen, you gotta come play! Aiden needs your help to kick dad's butt!"

"G, don't you dare team up with my son against me or you will be sorry!" Sam yelled from the other room.

Callen looked at the eager girl in his arms. "Your daddy is going to make my life miserable, you know."

"Yeah," she said. "But it's worth it. Right?"

He chuckled. "You know what? It really is."

And he could feel it, the threads of trust and welcome and affection and safety and home that wound around him as he allowed Kamran to lead him to the TV where Sam was already threatening him with bodily harm while Aidem was offering him a sly fist-bump with a grin. He knew without looking that Hetty had drifted after him, taking up a post nearby, but giving him the space to play with the family he never had and always wanted.

Maybe other families didn't end up in massive round-robin video game tournaments with betting about who would have to clean weaponry or who would get revenge in the next sparring match or who was going to do the coffee run for the next week. Maybe other families didn't end up shouting and cheering at video game triumphs and failures long into the night, with the adults yelling louder than the children. Maybe other families didn't turn the leftovers of their fantastic holiday meal into a carpet picnic mess which was only mostly free from stomping feet and dramatic flailing.

Maybe other families weren't anything like this one.

G Callen couldn't imagine loving any other family more.


	12. S7E12: Core Values

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody else freak out when there was a bomb on the bottom of a water tank and an imminent nuclear meltdown that would endanger 10 million people in LA County? And then the guy in the bomb suit turned out to be Granger? Or was it just me?
> 
> (Also, I hate that this title is a pun. Just…why.)
> 
> Enjoy!

"So," he said when Sam was regaling Granger with some kind of bomb disposal horror story, "two-thousand years of history and your gut?"

Hetty shook her head at him. "I thought we had covered that."

"We did." G smirked. "But there's something you're not telling us, either."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Mister Callen."

But she did, and he knew it. "It wasn't just getting the rescue personnel to safety. That stalled the bomber, sure. But it also meant there were fewer people around to try to interfere with us."

"Given the circumstances, I highly doubt anyone would have dared," she said, raising her eyebrow.

"I know. But that's standard operating procedure for covert operations. We stay clear of the authorities, we work outside their structures, and we keep them as far away from our operations as possible. You're the one who told me that the surest way to ruin an op was to have somebody add a 911 call to it."

"Your point?"

Callen huffed a laugh. "It wasn't just your gut _or_ the strategic envelopment. When it comes down to it, Hetty, you're a spy to your core. And absent any other considerations, you do things the way a spy does."

Hetty frowned.

"Which is okay," he was quick to say. "It saved our lives and millions of others today."

"I'm not sure I like being so predictable, however," she said.

"I didn't say it was predictable." He was enjoying this too much, but after the day he'd had, he thought he was allowed. "I just said that, given your experience, it was a logical move."

She gave him a mild glare. "I sense mockery regardless, Mister Callen. And given that my decisions did, in fact, make an impact which bought you the time needed to defuse the bomb and save yourselves as well as most of LA County, I think you would do well to remember that."

"Far be it from me to forget that I owe you my life again," he said, lifting his glass to her. "And thank you for that."

Hetty returned the salute. "Today could have gone very differently if everyone didn't do their very best, Owen included. We all took chances, leveraging our experience and our skills — and it paid off." Something in her eyes gave way for a moment. "Someday, I fear we won't be so lucky."

G felt an echoing pang of near-miss grief. "Someday. But not today."

Hetty nodded, the weight of the future in her expression but not in her small smile.

"I'll drink to that."


	13. S7E13: Angels & Daemons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And one silly one to round out the day! This was the episode where Callen and Sam pretended to be investors for a startup (that had toys and a slide) in order to figure out who had planted a data mining thing in a common app and shut it down before spies used it to hack a bunch of government officials. This is…weirdly, constantly prescient. Sigh.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first day after recovering the data mining daemon app, Hetty found a magazine on her desk. She rolled her eyes and dropped it in the trash. Then she fired a quick email to Callen saying only, "No."

Within two hours, there was a different magazine on her desk and a file full of pictures and clippings.

Nell was walking by when Hetty let out an aggrieved sigh and dumped them in the trash after their companion.

"Problem, Hetty?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not at all, Miss Jones. Simply an agent who has too much time on his hands."

Nell managed to mostly stifle a laugh and nodded, wisely making herself scarce.

That evening, she returned to her office and found a set of printouts rolled up in her teacup. These were crowned with a sticky note that simply had a smiley face on it.

Hetty texted him this time. "Absolutely not."

The response was a picture this time, obviously taken during the afternoon spent undercover at Flibbit.

She called him.

"Hi Hetty!" His voice was far too chipper. "So, what will it take to…?"

She cut him off without remorse. "Mister Callen, we are NOT installing a slide in the office!"

"Aw, come on! Imagine how much more quickly Eric could get down from Ops to deliver an update. And, really. Is that worse than him calling us with whistles and saxophones and bagpipes and all the rest of the weirdness?"

"Mister Callen." She drew in a deep, steadying breath. "There is literally no argument you can make. There will be no slide."

"But!"

" _No slides_."

"Maybe I'll install one in one of your houses, then."

Hetty hung up on him in disgust.

And if she also laughed — well, he would never know.


	14. S7E14: Come Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode where Hetty sends Kensi and Deeks to guard an important person and it turns out to be Kensi's ex (Jack Simons) who came to Hetty for help to protect his family who have been taken hostage in their small village. (B plot has to do with Callen finding out Sam is having a mathlete reunion and Sam finds out Callen has researched the whole team.) Hetty saves the family and the LA crew protects Jack. And Hetty's safe-house is shot to crap.
> 
> Which is where I picked it up. And then linked it back to a previous oneshot, because why not?
> 
> Enjoy!

"Well, that's another place compromised."

Hetty shook her head at him. "You're late," she said.

Callen laughed. "Considering that you didn't tell me we'd be doing this after the debrief, you can't accuse me of not being on time."

"Of course I can," she said. She shoved a box in his direction. "Now, you know the drill."

"Yep." He started piling salvageable items into it, careful of anything fragile. Hetty was still mourning that one stupid teacup he'd broken more than fifteen years before. When the box was full, he moved it to sit next to two others already by the door. "Is it unlocked, or am I breaking in?"

She gave him a look from all the way across the ruined living area. "Aren't you supposed to be observant? I seem to recall teaching you something like that. It's a useful skill in our line of work."

"Hetty." G looked around. The room had been shot half to pieces today, and even though the windows had some hastily-erected cardboard, the lights were dim. "It's been a really long day."

"You're telling me." She gestured to the ruined apartment. "I only just got this one furnished."

"How many others are there in the building?" He was surprised. The point of a safehouse was to put it somewhere innocuous, hard to find, and defensible. It wasn't like Hetty to put two separate safehouse apartments in the same building.

But then, this one was new. The other one at the end of the far hallway, had been in place long before Hetty bought the building. He would know; he'd retreated to it with her the night Matthias got into Ops.

"The one you know," she said, "and a safe-room in the basement."

"Are we talking safe-room as in 'a room with a safe in it,' or a safe-room as in the kind that can withstand machine gun fire?"

"Actually, this is more of a bunker than a safe-room. Not quite up to code for a nuclear strike, but it should hold against pretty much anything else."

He blinked at her. Then he did some math.

"Hetty, I know you believe in being prepared, but how many bunkers do you actually _need_?"

"Always one more, Mister Callen." She smiled. "Always one more."

Well, there was no good answer to that. G had finally spotted the keys to the other apartment sitting in the shadow of one of the already-packed boxes, so he started piling up a few to carry over at once. Hetty always kept her boxes small so that she could easily carry them herself, which meant he could get two or three at a time.

He was loaded up, key in hand, and just thinking about how to turn the doorknob without dropping everything when Hetty stepped up beside him. "Allow me."

He flashed her a grin as she slipped by him and held open the door. "Thanks."

They worked together for the better part of two hours, carefully preserving anything that had survived the ambush and carting it over to the other apartment for Hetty to sort and allocate across her places later. A few pieces of furniture had survived the hail of bullets, but those that were too much for Callen alone she opted to leave behind.

"After all," she said as they both regarded a heavy wooden armoire from the bedroom, "I can always move them into whatever location I set up next."

He snorted. "It's a special kind of preparedness, you know. Almost paranoia. Seriously, there's nobody else in the world who has so many places like this scattered all over."

"And if I didn't have them, I'm certain I wouldn't still be alive," Hetty replied, shrugging. "Don't 'knock it,' as they say, if it works." Then, with a sly look in her eye, she smiled. "Besides. _I'm_ certainly not the one who launched a background check into every single person who ever notably crossed paths with my partner all the way back to preschool."

Callen shook his head. "I never did that."

"Oh, of course you did. You know his mathlete teammates by name, occupation, and area of expertise."

"You heard about that, huh?"

"Who do you think authorized the checks?" she replied.

G chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because we've met, Mister Callen. Because we've met."


	15. S7E15: Matryoshka, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the big two-parter of season seven. This is the setup of Callen, Sam, and Anna heading to Russia for an extraction. It does not go at all as planned.
> 
> Next part is the big one where G Callen finds somebody he's been looking for all along…
> 
> Enjoy!

She did not make their goodbyes either long or personal. Where her agents were going with Anna was far too dangerous to allow them to become overly sentimental now.

Even so, she could not deny the feeling of hypocrisy that wound through her heart.

Had she not just finished telling Anna Kolcheck that going off alone and without support was a mistake? That a team was safer, even if it was a luxury that required sacrifice to achieve? That depending upon no one was the wrong way to live a life?

She had, but that made the circumstances no different.

However, there was still an important distinction between Anna's version of being on her own and where Hetty was sending her agents. Anna would have worked entirely without support; Callen and Hanna would have the power of Ops behind them, if a half a world away, and each other as well.

And Hetty had learned over the years that her best pair of agents were formidable on their own as long as they were together.

Even so, Hetty hated that the situation had come to this.

She had argued, most furiously, to include the rescue of Arkady in the official plan. Not because she cared overly much for Arkady himself — he was something of an irritant even on a good day — but because the rescue of two would necessitate a bigger team than just one, and that would have meant she could have sent Kensi and Deeks as well. It would be no less dangerous, but with four, five counting Anna, their chances would be much better. However, the men and women in the chain of command above her had been adamant, and there was only so much she could do.

Or, at least, that was what they thought.

She did not need to say anything to Callen before he walked away — she knew he read her message clearly.

Every available resource the office could provide would be theirs. Those who remained in Los Angeles would be ready to offer any support possible. Already Hetty had drafted an email to Nell and Eric, apprising them of the fact that they should plan to bunk in the boathouse until the mission was over. There were beds there, and a basic kitchen, and it would neither be the first nor last time she asked them to stay close so that they could react immediately if needed.

Hetty herself simply planned not to sleep. Such was her right overseeing the team, and after the life she had led, it was barely even a hardship.

But that was not all of what she had silently communicated to her lead agent.

For now, she agreed to be bound by the orders of those who gave them. For now, she would be obedient and send only two agents into impossible danger.

But if they were captured, or exposed, that obedience would end.

And Hetty knew well it wouldn't only be her own; it was only orders that would keep her other pair out of Russia for now. If something happened to Callen and Hanna, however, Kensi and Deeks would both promptly demand to go and help their teammates, even if it meant their jobs, their careers. Hetty knew it as surely as she had known any team that this one would go to the ends of the earth for one another.

And she would go with them.

Still.

She wished she could go with them now. Not hours after a disaster, not half a day behind the crisis.

_I must believe in them_ , she told herself. _I must have faith, and be ready for anything._

_Good hunting, boys. Watch your backs. Trust no one but yourselves unless you cannot help it._

_And come home safe._

_Or I shall bring you back myself._


	16. S7E16: Matryoshka Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah it finally happens and we learn what the G stands for in Callen's name!
> 
> The episode ends so abruptly, I basically picked it up from there. Although I kind of went simple with it, to be honest. Decided to focus on the most important part. Because, when GRISHA Callen gets to introduce himself for the first time, well, it's got to be Hetty.
> 
> This will also mark the permanent turning point in the story – sometimes he might mentally think of himself as "G," but, for the most part, he's adopting Grisha into his internal monologue.
> 
> Enjoy!

He let Sam make the report to Ops as soon as they could communicate over secured, US military lines. Somehow, even though he hadn't said a word, Sam had understood in that constant, mysterious way that had characterized their friendship for so long. Sam didn't have to know exactly what had transpired to know that his partner needed space.

"Tell me when you're ready, G," he had said.

_Not G. Grisha. My name is Grisha._

He hadn't been able to voice it, but he knew Sam saw something in the stricken look he could feel on his face. All his reactions seemed numb somehow. Shocked. As if he had been turned to stone.

But he hadn't been turned to stone. His life, however, had been turned upside-down.

_My father is alive. My father is alive and my name is Grisha Alekandrovich Nikolaev._

He spoke half a dozen languages fluently, and he couldn't think of a word in any of them that could properly describe what that simple knowledge had done to him.

Meanwhile, Arkady did enough complaining in two languages first in the jeep, then in one plane after another and every base in between, for anyone, and Anna replied back with irritated spirit and some rather creative insults. Sam spoke quietly to the medics and the rescued CIA agent, and the soldiers and pilot crew. And Sam also became a barrier, physically interposing himself between the world and his partner, understanding that the person he still called G needed privacy and a chance to cope with whatever had rattled him so completely.

It was a gift, and Callen could never repay it.

However, he realized not long after that he should have said _something_ to Sam. Some kind of explanation, or at least some excuse that would have bought him still more time. Because whatever Sam told Hetty, it was enough to induce her to meet them when they disembarked at a US airfield in South Korea before the flight back to LA.

"With me, Mister Callen," was all she said.

He glanced back at Sam, who was still handling Anna and Arkady. But Sam just shrugged and promptly triggered an argument between Arkady and Anna to distract them.

And then Hetty was tugging on his arm and leading him into an out-building which was probably somebody's office, but which had been vacated. Numb and in shock or not, he still saw Hetty's overnight bag in the corner, and a table between two chairs with tea already poured and steeping.

When he was sitting, she appraised him.

"You're not hurt?"

He shook his head.

If anything, her gaze narrowed.

"You are eventually going to have to speak again, Mister Callen. Preferably before anyone begins to panic."

He heaved in a breath.

"Garrison. The contact." His voice came out oddly pinched and croaky.

Hetty regarded him with steadiness, waiting. And he realized all at once that she would wait all night if he needed it. That she was here not because of the mission or NCIS, but for him. Not because she was his boss, or his coworker. Because she was everything else that mattered.

And suddenly he needed her to know it, too. She had known his mother, had cared for his mother. She had been a part of his story since before his birth. He had no idea how to speak to Sam or what to say — but he never could keep secrets from Hetty. And this one, of all possible secrets, he didn't want to keep. If anything, she deserved to hear it first, before anyone else.

It burst from him like a gunshot.

"He's my father."

Hetty's eyebrows shot upward in surprise. After a pause to collect herself, she managed a nod.

"I see." And she was less shaky than him, but only just. Then, being Hetty, she handed him a teacup and took the seat across from him. "Drink. It will help."

And because she was Hetty, he did.

As soon as the tea was gone, he found the experience spilling out of him. It wasn't concise, like a report, and it wasn't the build-up of a joke, and it wasn't a verbal trap. It fell away from him in a disjointed rush, as much told by what he didn't say by the words he managed to piece together. He was at the climax of the story before he even knew it.

"...And then...he realized I knew. Or...or maybe we both realized. And…"

There were tears then, tears he could barely feel on his skin.

"There wasn't time...for him to tell me why. All the reasons. But he promised he would. And then...he told me." He had to gulp against a lump in his throat. "He told me my name. My name, Hetty."

"Oh, Mister Callen." A hand went to her heart.

"I…" The first and second attempt to say it aloud stoppered his throat like a cork in a bottle. But he couldn't not. Couldn't not claim it, couldn't not wrap his mind and his heart around that name which was his own.

"The G...it stands for Grisha. I'm...Grisha Alekandrovich Nikolaev...Callen."

Into the silence came a tiny sound. He pulled himself out of his own thoughts enough to see tears in Hetty's eyes that matched his own. She was making an odd noise, not quite a sniffle, certainly nothing that could be described as a sob — and yet there was more feeling in it than she had showed but for a handful of times as long as he had known her.

At his attention, she quickly wiped her eyes. "I'm so glad. For you. I am...I am so glad for you."

He nodded, feeling his own tears welling up even more.

Her smile trembling a little, Hetty rose and moved to stand before him. She put her two hands on his shoulders, bringing her forehead close to his own.

"Hello, Grisha," she whispered.

And _Grisha's_ heart broke open, too full for its previous size, and he felt more whole and safe and at home than ever before in his life.


	17. S7E17: Revenge Deferred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the third Jada episode and the one in which we get the plot thread of the Hanna family in the crosshairs of Tahir Khaled which will crown the last episode of the season.
> 
> I think it's worth noting, if you rewatch these episodes back to back, how amazingly calm Callen is through all of it, when, typically calm is not his MO. There's reasons for that – including Sam's utter lack of chill – but I think there's also a soul-deep ease that has settled into Grisha now that the blank in his history has been filled in to some extent. From here on out, he still makes rash decisions and does all kinds of silly stuff, but his default is a little more matured, a little less reckless. As if finally connecting the dots of his history have unleashed his full potential in the present. It's a palpable shift throughout the rest of the season and into future ones, and the previous episode is where I think it originated. So I noodled on it a bit in this one.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was another quiet flight back to the US, though for almost the exact opposite reason. Last time, Callen had been stunned to silence, processing the fact that he had met his father, that he knew his name, that his past was no longer a dark hole of nothingness — and his future held possibilities he had only dreamed about. Even with Hetty keeping them company from South Korea back to LA, it had been a quiet flight, but a joyful one.

Grisha was pretty sure Sam had smiled the entire way home. He, as he was told by a gleeful partner, instead looked like a puppy who had just seen the outdoors for the first time — cautious, almost fearful, but with a nearing edge of hysterical joy just waiting to bubble over as soon as the uncertainty wore off.

_I would definitely rather have last time back_ , he thought to himself ruefully.

Sam was a stormcloud in his seat across the aisle. Callen couldn't blame him, not one bit. Michelle, Aiden, Kamran, their pictures all over a tent, in the hands of a warlord, being watched by people loyal to Tahir Khaled. It made his blood boil to think of it; Sam, understandably, was quietly going nuclear.

They were Sam's family, but they had been Callen's family for years, and he loved them fiercely. Khaled had come after Grisha's niece and nephew, and the only regret he had was that he and Sam hadn't killed the guy when they had him the first time.

But he could also understand arresting him, putting him in prison forever, making him suffer the indignity of defeat and incarceration. And, either way, Hetty had been right — they should have moved Khaled as quickly as possible to where he couldn't be helped by those loyal to himself or his allies.

If only they'd moved him sooner.

And this was why Hetty was in charge. Because no matter what the circumstances, she always saw the long game. She always saw angles in play that he missed. She could be blindsided just like the rest of them, and she could make mistakes, but she was rarely caught so completely off-guard.

A second mole, however, had caught them all by surprise.

_Damn it._

Callen closed his hands into fists. He forced himself to take a breath through his nose, willing his mind to calm. If Sam was going to be the angry one, then he would have to be the partner with perspective and serenity.

Oddly, he found that less difficult for once.

Maybe it was because there was nothing he could do while on the plane. Maybe it was because, whatever else, Sam's family was currently safe and would remain so until they figured this out. Maybe it was because they'd had one mole and caught him, and he knew they would get this second mole — no matter what.

But still. The lightness of inner balance came to him more easily, and he couldn't help but think that it was because he could finally sign his name and not his initial.

Such a small change — and such a profound one.

And there was the added fact of being able to finally repay Sam in some small way for all the times Sam had backed him up, had gone out on a limb or off the map completely for him. "This is what we do" had always been Sam's reasoning for staying at Callen's side through jobs and missions that should, by all rights, have never happened. Because, for Sam, the job and the partnership was about more than what they wrote in their reports and what got them paid every week.

It was about family, about doing the right thing, and about fixing the world when it broke under a guy who was on your team.

Sam had done it for Grisha so many times — it had been easy, it had been a _relief_ , to be able to return the favor.

No matter how it had ended, he didn't regret a minute of it. Finding and torturing Khaled, seeking Jada, taking risks that even Hetty might not have allowed if he'd given her a choice — all of it was worth it, because it was the very least he owed his partner. And if it gave Sam a moment of peace to know that Jada was safe and happy, and that Khaled would be hurting for a long while, that was more than enough.

His phone pinged. It was a text from Hetty.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he sent back.

"Bringing Sam home."

Well, it hadn't been too hard to convince him. Although Sam would have torn the country apart to find Khaled given the chance, the fact of a threat to his family back in LA meant that the fight would have to be deferred until Michelle and the kids were safe. They were Sam's priority, and it had only taken a tiny nudge from Callen to remind him of that.

Unfortunately, it was possible that Sam's family were the only ones who were safe right now — the rest of the team was back in a dance with a mole. And the last time, that dance had been deadly.

"Stay safe," he sent back. "There's a storm coming."

"Indeed," she texted in reply. "And I fear it will be a bad one."

He sighed. Hetty's instincts were usually right about this sort of thing. That was _not_ what he wanted to hear.

He glanced at Sam, then typed, "What can I do?"

Her response was immediate.

"Come home. And prepare yourself. It's going to get much worse before it gets better."


	18. S7E18: Exchange Rate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode where Sam spends the whole second half, including the last scene teasing Callen about what happens if he gets serious with Anna and has to spend holidays with Arkady. Callen puts up with it, but given their history, I figured he might want Hetty's take on it.
> 
> Enjoy!

"So, hypothetically."

Hetty glanced up from her book. She'd known he was here, of course, even if he was the only person who could regularly get into her back garden over the 10-foot wall and not make a sound nor reveal himself while doing so. Others had tried it, of course, in other houses and other gardens throughout the years. Most of them had gotten shot for their trouble.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Mister Callen," she said.

He ambled between flowering bushes and perched on the wicker chair across from her. "Not gonna offer me something to drink?" he asked, smirking.

"Hospitality is for people who enter through the doors," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I taught you that."

He laughed. "Are you telling me that I have to leave your garden by the wall and come in the normal way for you to offer me some tea?"

"Did you have a _reason_ for invading my garden this afternoon, or were you simply bored?" she shot back. "If you need something to occupy your time and your mind, I'm sure I can oblige."

"No, it's okay. I just wanted to ask you something."

Hetty affected exasperation, keeping her smile entirely buried. "Something hypothetical, I believe you said?"

"Yeah." He began to fidget. "So...if there were a...say a Christmas gathering. And I invited you. But I was seeing somebody and they invited someone. Would it...be okay?"

Hetty shut her eyes and counted to five in Korean.

"Allow me to translate that," she said, opening her eyes and fixing him with a look he knew better than to dodge. "What you are _actually_ trying to ask me is — if circumstances between yourself and Anna Kolcheck continue to evolve, would it be impossible for me to merge into a new family forged with the daughter of Arkady Kolcheck?"

"Uh."

"I heard Sam. And while I _highly_ doubt that Arkady has ever been fly-fishing in his life, the rest was sound."

"Oh."

She relented and made a more familiar smile. "I will probably never like nor trust that man, Mister Callen. Thankfully, Anna is rather different from her father in that respect."

Grisha swallowed and nodded.

Hetty set her book down fully, leaning forward and giving him her full attention.

"No one knows what the future holds, my boy. No one, not even I, can be sure about what will happen when two people attempt to walk together down the same road. Nothing is simple, and connections that last are never forged easily."

"I don't think I'd trust them if they were," he said softly.

She nodded. "But if you make room in your life for Anna, then so will I." Then she gave a sly smile. "However, I cannot promise not to handcuff Arkady to a car again, or otherwise make his life difficult. It seems only fair. He certainly has accrued a debt to us."

She watched him realize what she meant — that she still took personally every difficult thing Arkady had ever done to him. And, more subtly, she watched her answer sink into his eyes, her acceptance, even welcome to the idea of Anna Kolcheck. And the fact that she could easily have refused to ever spend any amount of social time with Arkady, that she could have reacted with coldness. Instead, she had chosen teasing.

Then he grinned. "In this hypothetical future where there's Christmases and Memorial Days with us and Anna and Arkady, I think torturing him might become a family pastime."

"I'm glad we understand each other." She picked her book up again. "Now, if you go into the house and pour the lemonade, I'll waive the rule about doors for once."


	19. S7E19: The Seventh Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this episode even as it breaks my heart. This is the one where Callen spends most of his time waist-deep in water trying to talk a kid down from blowing himself up for the extremists who raised him and warped him. It's so powerful watching our own Grisha with his difficult past figure out how to relate to this kid, finding himself mourning for everything that has been done to him and kept from him, and desperately trying to give him a better end. This episode had such an impact on me, I stole a line out of it and used it in season 6 for my oneshot when I filled in the gap of how Hetty was able to coordinate her own escape from Congressional hearings to get back to her team when Matthias was on her trail.
> 
> As a heads up, at this point we're still ending this series at season 7 – I haven't figured out how or if I want to continue with season 8 and beyond, so I'm going to call it here and maybe come back someday. Which means after this, there are only 2 more weeks of updates from me! I am so glad to have shared this journey with you, and as sorry as I am to see it end, I treasure every one of these Mondays we've spent together.
> 
> Never doubt that you are the people who made me feel safe when I was with you.
> 
> Enjoy!

"There will be people who come into your life. And you'll know you're safe when you're with them."

He'd said it to the boy today because it was what he needed to hear to stay calm. But Grisha knew only one person listening understood where those words came from.

Well, maybe two — Sam was pretty clever and had become aware of the fact that there was more to his history with Hetty than either had ever admitted.

Those were words from Hetty.

Of course, knowing what he did now, he realized that they were words she had given to many children, the ravens and swans that had passed through her care before him. They were words Grace Stevens had used to get his attention when Hetty had needed backup in DC. The fact that they were something of a code between the Hetty Lange cousins was actually useful to know, though he hadn't yet had occasion to use it.

He figured none of the cousins would mind him using their words in the line of duty to save the life of another orphan child.

After all, it was one of the truest things Hetty had said to him in those early days, and when all seemed bleak, they were words he had held onto in the privacy of his heart.

But until today, he had never known what it felt like to be on the other side of it. He'd always been the scared, lonely kid. Never the adult holding the frightened kid against the shivers and shadows inside his head.

It struck a lance of sympathy and protectiveness into his chest, which Grisha wasn't sure how he managed given that he had nearly drowned in those same feelings earlier. It put him in awe of Sam, of Hetty, of every parent in the world. He'd spent a handful of hours with a kid he barely liked at some moments and nearly been overwhelmed. How was it possible to feel that way about a child every minute of the day?

If he was honest with himself, he didn't know if he could stand it.

But today he had felt it. Today he had been that person for a child, just as Hetty had been for him long before.

So he bought a bunch of flowers and managed to arrive early in the office, before even Hetty. He didn't get a card at the shop, instead opting to write one out himself on a sticky note he tucked in amongst the blossoms.

In Romanian, he wrote, "Thank you for being my safety."

And her smile for the next three days was more than thanks enough.


	20. S7E20: Seoul Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the episode where Callen and Sam are on guard duty for a South Korean general and get caught up with someone trying to defect from North Korea with a pile of secrets. What I always thought was fun with the episode is that one person was always stuck on guard duty standing outside a door while the other was running around getting shot and dealing with the NK agents. And it was really Sam who got to have all the fun on this one, so I figured Callen would want a little revenge of his own for being left behind.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Hetty noticed that Callen's report for the mission seemed longer than expected, she sighed. And deliberately waited to open it until the office had cleared out.

She knew perfectly well that Callen had not been _at all_ pleased to be stuck guarding a door while his partner, the rest of his team, and Granger had been dodging North Korean agents while trying to protect Kang. He'd been on comms, so he had heard part of the chase and shootout — until Hetty told Eric to cut him off from the others.

The fact that he had to stand in a hallway perfectly still and give nothing away was, Hetty was certain, the only reason he hadn't voiced his complaints at the top of his lungs.

But she had firmly reminded him of his duty, of the fact that this could all be a distraction and that the man he was protecting might be in more danger than ever. She had also promised him to call in a favor to get some replacement agents on the scene as quickly as possible so that Callen could rejoin his team. It was a near thing, but he had backed down and focused on his job.

And by the time he appeared in the boathouse, relieved by the DC agents Hetty had summoned, he had seemed at ease again. After all, his team was safe, and even Prieto was going to recover from the bullet in the neck.

Still. Hetty should have realized that the fact that Callen hadn't said another word about not being there to watch his partner's back and look out for his team meant he was going to vent his frustrations another way.

With great trepidation, she opened his report.

"At least there are no drawings this time," she muttered to herself, skimming over the information.

It was when she got to the page marked "Supplemental Details" that she couldn't help but shake her head.

It was a list. A very, very detailed list.

Of every single room, hallway, and stairwell in which he had been posted as a guard.

Broken down by number of floor tiles, ceiling tiles, wall sconces, window panes, repetitions of patterns in carpet or wallpaper, chairs, tables, even curtain rods. Pages and pages and pages of it.

At the very, very bottom of the last sheet was a single line.

"Proof of my attention to the situation in spite of other distractions."

Hetty threw herself backwards in her chair. "Oh, for the love of Gucci."

But she filed it in full anyway, just in case.


	21. S7E21: The Head of the Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this stunning episode. Nate going dark, kidnapping Callen, waterboarding him, pushing to the very edge and beyond to try to keep people safe. The depths of the trust needed to make this work could be sung about in epic ballads. I did not write an epic ballad. But I gave you a little.
> 
> Next week we finish season 7 and then I move onto other fandoms for a while. Until then, we've got some good ground left to cover.
> 
> Enjoy!

"You know why Nate chose you instead of Sam, don't you?"

She had just dismissed Nate, and turned to speak to the looming shadow to the side of her office, hidden in that one spot which no one else could really use. But somehow the darkness clung to him when he perched there, and it concealed him like a friend.

Callen stepped forward, moving to the edge of the light. He turned his head just enough to make sure the door had shut behind Nate before he answered.

"Yeah. He needed one of us to give him an out. But he knew what he might have to do to us to get there."

"And he knew you could handle it." Now she lifted her eyes to his. "He knew you wouldn't blame him, even if he lost your friendship over it."

"And I don't," he said. "Given the choice, waterboarding is still my torture technique of choice. There's nothing worse than burns, and we both know how I feel about stitches."

Hetty swallowed. She wanted to say something about how much she hated that he had ever gained enough experience with torture to have a preference, about how badly she wished he had never known such pain, especially at the hand of a friend.

But she locked those words inside her heart with all the rest of her grief and recriminations about the life she had given Grisha Callen. It was a heavy box, filled to the brim, and chained with the steel of good intentions and necessity.

Instead she said, "He's more like you than Sam or Kensi ever will be."

Callen nodded. "I know. Even undercover, Sam couldn't have done that. Not that way. He'd have beaten me and pulled his punches, but he couldn't have tortured me."

"And Kensi?"

"Oh, she could torture me," and Hetty hated the small smile on Callen's face, "but she wouldn't have had the patience for the whole jug. She'd have interrupted it midway through and changed tactics to try to keep it from being too much for me."

"But Nate knows your limits, or lack thereof," Hetty said softly.

"And he knows how to read micro-expressions better than anybody but you," he said. "He knew I was aware of the game he was playing. He knew I would play along, even if it cost me my life, because he knew from the minute he put me in that truck that I would protect his cover to the end. He knew I could handle it, because he knew I knew he was still on our side."

"He is also aware of your psychological resistance," she said. "Which is unparalleled."

"Yeah. But the question is," and he stepped fully into the light, "is his?"

"That is the question."

"Hetty, we both know Nate would be a great agent. But he's got a lot of heart. More than any of us, really. If he can't withstand this, it will break him. And the way he's going, you're aiming him for the kinds of assignments where breaking him won't just kill him — it'll be a major disaster."

"I'm aware of that."

He moved to stand across from her. "You've...you've done a good job with him. Better than I thought was possible, honestly. The old Nate couldn't have done any of that today. Let alone whatever he had to do to get that far."

Hetty didn't flinch, but she had seen the pain in Nate's eyes. Had known that he had made a sacrifice of his own body she never, never wanted anyone to have to make for the job. And it was far worse because he had done it for her.

Nate Getz had gone dark because he'd gone too deep — because he was trying to prove himself.

"I just…" Callen stopped. His face broke in that way that spoke of his deep and abiding love for his team. For his family. "I want to be sure that you know what you're doing."

She shut her eyes for a moment, remembering the Nate Getz who used to bounce into the office, hovering around the agents like a favorite mascot with his too-quick intelligence and slightly incompetent manner. She remembered the doctor who was friend and comforter, the one who put humanity into the heads of their opponents.

And then she superimposed over that memory the Nate who had sat across from her tonight — bearded, exhausted, haggard. The Nate who had tortured a friend, who had slept with an enemy, and who had committed treason in the name of the greater good.

When she opened her eyes, she allowed Callen to see the mix of emotions that roiled even against her iron control.

"Unfortunately, Mister Callen, I know _exactly_ what I'm doing."


	22. S7E22: Granger, O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we have finally reached where I will stop for now. It's been amazing sharing these seven seasons of episodes with you all, and I have enjoyed every bit of it. Will I ever come back and continue with season eight and beyond? No idea. Ask me in a while. It depends a little bit on where the series goes from here. But I won't rule it out. If so, I'll pick up here right where I leave off.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope we find each other again sometime in another fandom. Thank you all for your kind comments, your support, your interest, and your enthusiasm.
> 
> I sincerely hope these last three oneshots help capture all the things we love about Hetty and Callen and the deep, complex, and endlessly entertaining bond that connects them.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Hetty said "It's complicated" in answer to the question about Granger and Kim, she had given him a look — and now Callen knew enough to know he didn't need any more information.

That was the same look she gave sometimes when she had to talk about their past, after all.

Sam missed it, but Callen didn't. And he knew for a fact that Owen Granger hadn't actually raised a kid, let alone a kid like Jennifer Kim who was working with the North Koreans. But, regardless, the connection was the same.

Somehow, Owen Granger was a piece to the puzzle of Jennifer Kim's past — and it was important to him.

When they got back to the office and Sam asked about it again, Callen stayed back, just watching Hetty for more clues. She deflected, of course, but he could read her non-answers just the same. And that, plus one tiny head tip so quick he could have missed it with a blink, told him the rest.

Actually, Callen was not surprised to find out that Owen Granger managed to have a kid who turned into a badass spy. Whether the connection was biological or emotional or weirdly circumstantial, that's what it came down to — some things just turn out that way. It wasn't even the strangest thing to happen on this team.

It actually made Grisha feel a little better knowing that Granger was really not that different from the rest of them after all.

And then Hetty promptly distracted Sam with Clippers tickets and sent them off before he could catch the hidden communication between them. Callen, of course, backed her play and doubled down on distracting Sam, though he knew he was going to pay for that "Laker girl" comment later.

Because they were running late, Sam dropped Callen off at the front so he could go ahead and grab nachos and beers while Sam parked the car. While waiting in line at the concessions stand, Callen pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

"Granger going to be okay?"

Hetty replied at once. "Owen has found something he thought lost forever. You should know the answer better than anyone."

He smiled. "Okay. If he needs something, though, we're here."

This time, Hetty's response didn't come until after he had his hands full of snacks and was working his way to the seats. By the time he sat down and could get the beers to safety, the national anthem was about to start and Sam was skidding into place at the last possible second. So Callen had to stand and try not to listen to Sam sing and pretend that his partner didn't actually have a nice voice — if you liked that kind of thing.

But right after tip-off, while Sam dug into his nachos, Callen pulled out his phone again.

"Of course we are. And if he forgets that, I will show him no more mercy than I showed you. Though I may need a more reliable taser."

There was another message after it.

"Enjoy the game, dear."

Callen grinned, grateful beyond words that the whole mess with going rogue had been reduced to nothing more hurtful than a joke when it could have ended so very differently. Everything that really mattered was fine — better than fine. Maybe better than it ever had been before.

"Anything up?" Sam asked. He was polite enough not to lean over and read the text for himself.

Callen shook his head, typed and sent a quick "Thanks," and put the phone away.

"Nope. All good."


	23. S7E23: Where There's Smoke

He was already awake when his phone pinged with a text.

"ETA 5 min."

Callen was surprised. Hetty didn't usually make morning visits. Evenings, of course, he still regularly invaded her space wherever she was staying for the night, and she had been known to drop by his house from time to time as well. But they both had their own morning routines and breaking today's felt ominous somehow.

He had just set the tea to steep when he heard the front door opening and her distinctive step on the wooden floors.

"Morning, Hetty!" he called.

"I apologize for the intrusion," she said, "but given the case we have just pulled, I thought you would appreciate it."

"That's not worrying or anything," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "What kind of case are we talking about?"

"Mister Hanna will brief you. In fact, I expect him to call you in the next few minutes to let you know that he's on his way to pick you up. You'll go straight to the scene."

He peered at her. "So why are you here now? Is there something you couldn't tell Sam? Something he doesn't know?"

Hetty shook her head, a small smile pulling at her face. "No, nothing like that. But...well, call it a moment of sentimentality."

From her pocket she drew a small, plasticky envelope, the kind used for documentation that needed to be protected while in transit. She held it out to him with both hands.

All at once, he knew what he was looking at and his heart pounded.

"Hetty…"

"It is my honor," she said.

With numb fingers, he took the envelope from her and pulled out his newly issued badge:

_Grisha Alekandrovich Nikolaev Callen._

He couldn't help but stare at it. His real name on his badge. His full name. Not just G, although in some ways he would probably always be G. But now that G meant something. Now G could also mean Grisha. Could be Grisha Callen. Grisha Alekandrovich. Grisha Nikolaev.

He barely noticed Hetty moving around him to finish the tea he had set to steep, taking the mug he had poured for her and settling at the chair in the kitchen, giving him some space.

He'd requested the change, of course. He'd updated his files, his insurance, all of his legal identification. And there was a thrill every time, even when his pay stubs now came addressed to "Mr Grisha AN Callen" which was a little odd, but he did have a long name now, so maybe that was to be expected. But he had received pay stubs and credit card bills and junk mail for dozens of aliases over the years — even this house was owned by an alias. His whole life had been a series of fake names, so seeing his true name in the mix wasn't as startling.

But seeing it on his badge, on the one real thing that defined him, it was staggering.

He had no idea how long he stood staring at his name, tracing the letters with his eyes, feeling a completeness he'd never imagined — but he was grateful beyond words that Hetty sat quietly throughout the entire process, sipping her tea and looking out the window unobtrusively. He was doubly grateful that she had brought it to him here so he could have this time, could absorb the change, the settling of the bedrock of his identity, in peace.

When his voice worked again, he managed, "Thank you for this."

"As I said, Mister Callen, it is my honor." She gave a tiny smile that held spades of hidden warmth.

He put the badge into his existing wallet, staring at it a bit more before tucking it into his pocket. Then he turned to his too-cool tea, swallowing hard.

"So, this case…?" he asked. He couldn't begin to talk about this tectonic shift, and he knew she would understand that.

"Yes. Mister Hanna will brief you on the way. Miss Jones is already en route."

"Nell's coming out of Ops? Must be serious."

"Indeed."

He looked at her more closely. "There's something you're not telling me, though."

Hetty let out a breath. "It's not about this case, I'm afraid."

"The mole?"

"Yes." She shook her head. "This entire situation...it is very, very unsettling."

Callen frowned. "Is there something I should know?"

"Not at the moment." She met his eyes. "But the longer this goes on, the longer we are compromised without resolution, the more, I fear, we will pay a terrible price for our failure. If this mole isn't caught, and soon, the damage he or she could do…"

"We'll find them, Hetty." He said it with all his conviction.

But her measured gaze was unconvinced. "The question is — will it be too late when we do?"

The ringing of a cell phone diverted whatever Callen was going to say. "It's Sam."

"Ah. Then the time has come for us both to return to the world, ready to face the day." She finished her tea and put the mug in the sink while Callen answered, quickly agreeing to meet Sam out front in a few minutes.

"I'll see you in the office, right?" he asked as she started towards the front door.

"Of course, Mister Callen." But she turned back. "Watch yourself, my boy. Every hour that passes is another hour we must be prepared for the worst. Do not let down your guard."

"You either," he said. And he hated realizing that he was going to be in the field again today, like always. Which meant he wouldn't likely be in the office if the mole decided to strike the way Carl had. Being on the wrong side of lockdown meant he couldn't be there to protect Hetty, or Eric, or Granger, or Nell. Or anyone else locked in a metal cage with an enemy in their midst.

Hetty nodded and gave a tiny flick with one hand. Her derringer appeared from her sleeve.

"Believe me. Should our mole make itself known, I intend to be prepared."

But no amount of preparedness could shake off the cloud of suspicion and betrayal that was hanging over them both, thick and choking like smoke.


	24. S7E24: Talion

It took Grisha almost two days to get home after the assault on Aiden's school.

Besides the immediate cleanup, inevitable taking of statements, and seeing to Khaled's security (if it had been up to him, the man would have been hogtied with barbed wire, but he wasn't allowed to do more than triple the guard and generally glare at everyone until they reached useful levels of hyper-aware jitteriness), there was also the trip to the hospital for Sam, Sam's right-on-time refusal to stay overnight, Granger pulling rank from a distance, and Callen finding himself standing as overwatch for Aiden in a hotel room until Michelle arrived.

This last was a duty he took very seriously, doubly so given Sam's completely understandable paranoia, and it gave him a chance to talk Aiden through the worst of what he had experienced. The kid was as brave and stalwart as either of his parents, but Grisha knew it was also easier for him to admit to his Uncle Callen the fears and uncertainties and moments of agony than it ever would be to say them to the father he so admired.

And if Callen opted _not_ to use this particular day to subtly or not-so-subtly remind Aiden that he was apparently perfectly suited for spywork, that was only because Sam would have his head on a platter if he even hinted as much this time.

But finally Michelle arrived, just when Callen and Aiden were visiting Sam at his grumpiest in the hospital, and Grisha stayed only long enough to share a knowing nod with Michelle before making a break for it — preferably before the fighting started. He loved Sam and Michelle and Aiden and Kamran, he really did, and therefore he had _absolutely_ no interest in listening to them fight.

Especially given that he couldn't not point out as a parting shot that he'd told his partner to call his wife _way_ before he actually did.

He was gonna pay for that later, probably from both sides, but at least it made Aiden laugh.

When Callen arrived back in LA, he took the time to head home, shower, change, and eat some real breakfast before he went seeking Hetty.

It wasn't like her to absent herself when one of her team was in the hospital. Grisha could count on one hand the number of times any of them had been in for more than simple observation when she hadn't popped up, expertly reading a chart and offering vague, zen-like wisdom. Even when she had to fend off half the branches of federal, state, and local government, she had been known to do it from a bedside without ever waking up the patient in question.

But this time, she had stayed away.

Grisha wasn't worried — not more than usual — but he was very curious. So he tracked her to one of her houses and let himself in the usual way.

"You're early, Mister Callen."

He rounded the corner to emerge in the sitting room, grinning. "Did you expect me to have somewhere better to be?"

"I thought perhaps you would at least check in at the office before seeking me out." She gave him an arch look. "It _is_ working hours, after all."

"Since when has this job ever cared about working hours?" he shot back. "Besides, I'm not the only one not in the office."

"Oh. Well." And she smiled. "Even Operations Managers are permitted their indulgences, after all. And recovering some sleep after our ordeal and its difficult fallout will do wonders to ensure I maintain my efficiency."

"You just didn't want to be so tired you were yelling at Eric again."

"Hush, Mister Callen. You know perfectly well I never yell."

"Except at me. You've _definitely_ yelled at me."

"And I shall do so again if you don't sit down like a good guest while I bring us some tea."

Chuckling, Grisha made himself comfortable on the squat sitting room couch, piling all the pillows at one end just so he could lean on them like the uncouth barbarian he pretended to be. When Hetty reentered the room with her tea tray, she rolled her eyes at him and swatted his feet before he could rest them on the table.

But once they were both ensconced with tea, then he let the exaggerated ease slip away and regarded her more closely.

"Hetty, what's really going on?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, giving him a look that meant she knew exactly what he meant.

"You didn't come to the hospital. You've been...this is going to sound weird, but you've been stepping back a little bit lately. Not from the job. Just...I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining it." He let out a breath and stared into his tea.

"Very observant as always, Mister Callen."

Grisha looked up, surprised. "So you're really stepping back?"

"Not in the way you think." She took a sip of tea. "We have known one another for many years, Mister Callen, and in closer proximity than even the most fond parents and children typically do."

He felt his stomach warm a bit, but just nodded.

"There have been some very great changes in this last year. Primarily amongst them, the knowledge you have gained about both your father and yourself."

"Hetty," he was quick to say, "if you think that I want you to back off because I have my father…"

"No, dear. I am a great fool in many ways, but not quite so foolish as that." She shook her head. "However, there is no denying that you have at last been liberated from one of the heaviest millstones around your heart — the mystery of your past. From the day you knew that you were Grisha Callen, there has been a change in you."

"Really?"

"You walk more lightly now. You are more grounded. The edge of a lonely boy's desperation has finally evaporated from your shoulders. The others may not see it, but do not doubt that it is not there."

"Huh." He frowned. "I do feel different, I guess. I wouldn't have put it that way, but I kinda get what you mean."

Hetty studied her tea for a few moments before she looked up to meet his eyes.

"There comes a time in everyone's life, Mister Callen, when they lean less heavily upon the support networks that first raised them up. A pillar in one's youth does not remain the only pillar upon which one relies as one grows in the world. For the first time in your life, you are truly discovering how to lean upon more pillars than your fractured past and the stability I have always represented."

He drew in a quick breath to object, but she stopped him with a glance.

"That is not to say you have not given your trust over to your team who have become your family in my place. Rather, the balance is shifting. Increasingly, you look to your peers for your strength, and less to myself. And this is exactly as it should be."

Grisha put down his teacup — his throat felt too tight to drink from it.

"Hetty, I'm not abandoning you."

"And I am not accusing you of it," she said. "Rather, I am relieved. The people in your life now — Sam, Deeks, Kensi, Nell, Eric, perhaps even Anna — will be there for you long after I am gone. The sun sets on all lives, Mister Callen. Sooner or later."

She drew in a deep breath.

"It has been my hope in these last few years that you would not be alone when that time comes for me. And, at last, I feel secure about you, just as you have begun to feel secure in yourself."

Grisha forced himself to consider, to think, to absorb her words and meanings before just fighting back.

"You're not saying you're leaving?" he had to ask.

"No." And she smiled. "But it is good to know that, finally, I could if I so chose. Because neither of us would fear that you would be left alone."

He nodded and swallowed a lump in his throat. "But you're _not_ leaving?" he repeated. "Because...even if I don't...even if I don't need you the same way...I'm never _not_ going to need you, Hetty. I'm never going to grow out of being your...of being yours."

"I know, Grisha." She called him by name so rarely, it was always a shock to him when she did. "As I shall never not be to you all that I have been. We are family, my boy. Nothing will ever change that."

He managed to nod and forced a half-smile. "I guess it's time to grow up, then."

"No," she said. "Never change who and what you are, Grisha Alekandrovich Nikolaev Callen. Never lose that spark which sets you apart from the shadows and keeps your spirit whole in the darkness. Growing in courage, in strength, in wisdom — these things do not require a sacrifice to take hold. Merely enough soil for some roots to grow."

"It's always about roots with you," he teased.

"And at last you have them. Not just those I grafted onto you, but roots you have set down and strengthened for yourself. And I am proud of you, Mister Callen. Proud of all you have accomplished, and of who you have become."

"I couldn't have gotten here without you, Hetty." He met her eyes. "And even if I don't...if I'm becoming more of myself now...I'm never going to forget that every good thing about me was born not from my mom or my dad. It came from you."

Hetty reached out a hand to him and he clasped hers tightly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Grisha. Certainly not soon, anyway. You and I will have plenty of time to sit and drink tea like this and revel in the remarkable fact that we are here at all. But do not be surprised if I continue to step to the side and let you and the family you have made for yourself have more space to find your way. The greatest honor of my life has been to watch my children grow and thrive. Your path was unique, but I am still glad to see you upon it."

Callen was surprised to find tears in his eyes.

"No matter where I go, I'll always come back to where you are. Always, Hetty. Not just because I owe you everything. But because you...you are…"

He ducked his head, fighting the sob building up in his lungs.

"As are you to me, Grisha Callen. Now and forever."

He held onto her hand as though he would never let go, as though nothing would ever separate them, not time, distance, or even death itself.

And found that he didn't mind changing, didn't mind stepping even more out from Hetty's shadow and finding his own way — but he would never sacrifice her to do it. What they were to one another, what she had given him, what he felt for her, these things could never be surpassed. Grisha's whole life could be slotted into "Before Hetty" and "Since Hetty;" there would never be an "After Hetty."

His roots, his family, his job, his whole life had been defined by Henrietta Lange.

No matter where his life went from here, that one fact would never, ever change.


End file.
